Jack's Journal
by lexieconextreme
Summary: Jack's thoughts while on the island for the first and last day. English assignment gone wrong.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This was an English assignment that turned into a bit of fanfic. It was weird. Never did I imagine I would write fanfic for freakin' Lord of the Flies. But oh well. Here this is.**

 **I was told to write about Jack's experience on the first and last days on the island from his own perspective. Let the madness ensue.**

* * *

 **Journal of Jack Merridew, first day on the Island**

We crashed on an island. We were supposed to be on our way to America, heck, I suppose we would have arrived by now if not for the crash. But now we aren't. And the other choir boys and I woke up scattered around a beach on the island.

Once the others had woken, we tried to collect our wits. Don't really know if that turned out so well. There were bits of broken up airplane scattered all around us, and I realized that some dangerously hot or sharp pieces of metal had come quite close to impaling us. Really, it's a miracle none us were killed.

Then we heard it. The sound of a horn spread loud and clear over the island, echoing nicely in ravines and valleys, bouncing off the very side of the mountain that stood over us. The other choir boys seemed quite anxious to answer the call, but I was hesitant. There was no way of knowing who had sounded that horn, and if they meant us any harm. But Roger and Simon seemed quite intent on going, so I led them away toward the direction of the horn.

As we walked closer and closer to the horn, which blew intermittently as the blower took breaks to catch his breath, the beach grew clearer of debris. I guess the plane didn't fly over that area where the hornblower waited. As we went along, we came across more and more boys ho had also been marooned on this island. A great many of them were below the age of seven, only a few closer to my own age of ten. So far, I haven't seen another boy older than myself besides Ralph.

As we made our way slowly down the beach toward the sound of the horn, the littluns ran ahead of us and disappeared into the haze and the trees. As we continued our trek, little boys could be seen flickering in and out of view in the trees, holding pieces of fruit or chasing one another. I would have laughed at the time if it wasn't so hot.

The sun was beating down on us, though it did slowly sink lower and lower into the sky. The heat didn't grow any less, though. The humidity was enough to put down a bear, but still we went on. When we finally reached the place where the hornblower stood, now surrounded by littluns and biguns alike and holding a large shell delicately in his hands.

This boy, Ralph, has a commanding air about him. I don't think the rest of the boys on the island would have voted him chief if he didn't. He was very quiet, and thoughtful. I really think Ralph might be able to save us, get us off this island. Because if not he, then who?

The answer is me, obviously. But here's another question. Do we really need to leave the island? We have everything we need here: food, water, we'll have shelters soon enough.

Ralph seemed to be the only one older than me, and if was only by a few measly months. If Ralph was taken out of the way, then the others might vote me to be chief, and then we might be able to focus on more important things other than a stupid signal fire, which almost killed all of us tonight. Which most likely killed that boy with the birthmark. If it wasn't for Ralph and his signal fire, that littlun might still be alive. No, if Ralph was gotten out of the way, then we could focus on getting something more to eat other than fruit and coconut meat.

Speaking of meat, when we were walking along the beach, I saw a group of pigs resting in the shade. I also saw straight sticks and rocks that look as if they could be used as a spearhead. I could kill one of those pigs, get us some actual dinner.

For now, it seems as though Ralph and I might be friends. He is good, but soft. He doesn't have the strength to get us what we need. He thinks we need to leave this island, but he's wrong. We'll be fine here, safe from this bloody war.

Yes, for now, Ralph can stay chief. We'll see what happens.


	2. Chapter 2

**Journal of Jack Merridew, last day on the Island**

The hunt was begun.

Ralph was somewhere on the island, and I wanted to catch him. He tried to undermine my leadership, deny my right! It will not happen. The hunters and I were spreading across the island, searching for Ralph. I knew he was there somewhere, the Samneric had told me as much. Or rather, they had told Roger. Roger was quite skillful when it came to getting information from little boys.

It was fun, watching him work. Too bad we're leaving this island, it really is. Here, we could flourish. Catch our own meat, leave a piece for the beast, worship him as our god. Any being with that much power can't be anything but.

But for that moment, we had to find Ralph before we could do anything. He was good at hiding, finding places _to_ hide. But I'm a better tracker. It was no problem finding him, it really wasn't. He was there huddled beneath the bushes, with a spear foolishly poking out of his hiding place. Footprints clearly showed in the dirt that led toward the den.

Ralph had no clue what he was doing, which was exactly why I was going to win. Ralph would die like Piggy, like Simon, and I would enjoy the kill. Ralph's blood would become my new war paint. His head would become the face of my new civilization, stuck on a pike and left as a snack for the beast. I only had to catch him first.

Roger approached ahead of me, spear in hand and ready for anything. I heard the faint sound of someone sucking his breath in quickly, ready for some fast motion. It wouldn't do any good. Roger would disarm the savage and then I would kill him. It would be that simple.

But before Roger can do anything, a scream sounds from within the thicket and Roger leaps back as Ralph's own pointed stick rushes past his bare chest. Ralph screams again, and the sound is beautiful, music to my ears. It is a mixture of pain, fear, anger, and desperation. He sounds almost like a pig. He sounds exactly like my next kill.

Ralph runs immediately into the forest as soon as Roger is out of the way. I don't think he saw me, though I saw him. His eyes are wide and frightened, the way a pig's are as you slit its throat. Roger's call echoes throughout the burning jungle, letting our cohorts know that Ralph has been found. Roger and I race into the jungle, following closely on Ralph's tail. He is fast in his fear, though it won't do him any good. The beach is close at hand, and he can't escape that way.

The edge of the jungle that meets the sand of the beach is bright and flickering with fire, its licking and winding flames more dangerous and painful than a creeper. But Ralph seemed to ignore it, or maybe he doesn't even see it. He bursts through the curtain of fire and onto the beach, and I hear him scream in pain. Again, a wonderful sound. I jump straight through the flames after him and roll on the ground to get it off my body.

I'm quick to get on my feet again, only to a see a tall Naval officer standing very still and looking at us both strangely. I hear Roger come up behind me, as well as the other boys one by one as they arrive. We all stared at the officer in shock, now quite unused to the sight of an adult.

"Are there any adults- any grownups with you?"

And now we all are on the Naval officer's boat. We sit in our cozy cabin that we all must share and stare at each other awkwardly. We have all had the grace of one or two baths, and are freshly cleaned and scrubbed. Our faces no longer bear any trace of war paint or blood or dirt, and our wounds have been bandaged.

The memory of the island is our elephant, and it very nearly stifles the room. No one speaks, though Percival cries as he tries and fails to remember the chant that holds his name and address. I don't know why he bothers. As soon as we get back to England, they'll get all the parents of the missing children and bring them to us. We don't need to remember our names.

I stare at Ralph, and he stares back. I still feel all this hate in me, the want and the urge to kill him. I want his blood on my hands, running down my arms. But we are going back to actual civilized civilization now. If I did that, I would likely be incarcerated as soon as we got back to England.

No, Ralph still has to die, of that I'm sure. We are no longer on the island, but the rules still apply. He broke my law, and the sentence is death.

But wait, they all sleep now. Even tiny Percival has stopped his snivels and given in to sleep. Now is my chance, no one has to know that it was me. Ralph has fallen asleep sitting up, not on his pillow. I will put it over his face, stop his breathing.

No will know that it was me, no one. We boys will awake in the morning to find Ralph dead, and we will scream and cry until the officers come to see what is the matter. The matter will be that Ralph is dead and no one knows how or why or who did it.

No one will know that it was me.

Goodbye, Ralph.


End file.
